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“I know I see all of you, but it’s hardly ever at the same time. And it’s never just the four of us. There are always other people around. As much as I love the Jacobsons, it’s nice to have a night alone with my kids.” She squeezes each of our arms. More guilt oozes in my gut.
I know I’ve been avoiding her. I’ve just been so happy with Millie that I didn’t want anything to mess it up. Especially my mother. She could take this relationship one of two ways. She could take the usual road where she tells me about how you can never trust anyone and that relationships always fail (I wonder where my issues stem from.) Or else she’ll think that it is the best thing ever and put all of her hopes and dreams into my relationship and therefore add a bunch of pressure.
I’ve made huge strides in my overthinking and have talked about all of this with Millie (due to lots and lots of coaxing on her part). Thankfully she’s very understanding of the situation and my inability to process my emotions easily. One of the many reasons why I’m madly in love with her.
Yes, I’m in love with her. I haven’t told her yet, but it’s going to happen. As soon as we figure out a way to tell our brothers and then our families. That has to happen first. I could so easily tell my family right here and now. Especially when Mom starts asking for life updates like she used to when we were kids.
“Tell me everything! What’s new? What’s exciting? What’s—”
“Mom! We get it!” Rosie interrupts.
“I’m sorry,” Mom apologizes.
I pat her arm with my hand. “No need to apologize. It’s been a long time, like you said.”
Mom wipes at her cheeks. “I’m just so happy you’re all here.”
Jon wraps her up in a hug. “We’re happy to be here, too.”
He and I make eye contact, forming an unspoken agreement. Whatever it is that we have going on between us, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are here for Mom and Rosie. We owe them both that.
Rosie stands up from her seat. “How about I go cut up that cake, and we can delve into our lives over devil’s food and ice cream?”
“We haven’t even had dinner yet, and you want dessert?” Jonathan follows after her.
Mom smiles as she hears them bickering in the kitchen. Then her eyes land on me. “So, when are you going to tell your brother?”
I gulp. What does she know?
“Tell him what?”
Her eyes narrow. “About you and Millie.”
My mouth gapes open. “How?”
“I saw the two of you at the movies last week. I was about to go say hi, when… ”
She leaves the sentence hanging in the air, but I don’t need her to fill in the blanks. I know exactly what she would have seen: Millie and I being very couple-y.
“How long have you two been seeing each other?”
“A few weeks.” I try to stop the hyperventilation that I feel coming on. “We’ve been spending time together pretty much since I got back.” I can’t read her expression. Is it hurt? Worry? This isn’t how I wanted her to find out. I take another staggering breath. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. We were going to tell you, I swear.”
My eyes are pleading. There might be a lot of things that I don’t talk to my mom about, but this isn’t—wasn’t going to be one of them. Mom nods. She’s about to say something else when Rosie and Jon come back in the room, the latter grumbling about how cake shouldn’t come before dinner.
“What’s going on in here?” Jon raises an accusatory eyebrow at me.
I clear my throat. “I was just telling Mom about how I have accepted a position as the new assistant baseball coach at Ridgeview.”
Jon’s eyes go wide. Rosie throws the plates she was holding down on the table and rushes over to give me a hug. “This is huge!”
Mom’s eyes are misty again. “You’re going back to baseball? You said you would never—”
I interrupt her. “It was hard wrapping my head around ever being able to be on the field again, especially after all that happened.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I missed it. I’m still pretty rusty. And I’m definitely not 19 anymore, but I’m really liking being back. And I love the challenge. The team is pretty great. It’s a good group of kids.”
Just thinking about it makes my insides surge with excitement. I might not have been able to go all the way, but who’s to say I can’t help the next Mickey Mantle get on his way.
I look over at Jon who is still holding two plates of cake in his hands, just staring at me.
